Snapshots and Stories

Blank Page

The words escape, trickling away from my conscious, until they gather behind a wall, mocking me. Ideas swoop in and out, never staying long enough to present themselves. Flickers of notions, here and gone before I can get my pen out. Not to be.

Sometimes the thought of trying to write another piece, no matter how short, leaves me paralyzed with fear. I try to start and can’t, and I convince myself that I will never finish another sentence again. I try to reach the words behind the wall, but they remain trapped, never to see daylight. The blank page screams in triumph, and I cower in defeat.

Often the exhaustion gets to me. Trying to form and finish a narrative against the backdrop of reality: extremely stressful day-job, long, soul-sucking commute, mortgage, bills, aches and pains, daily maintenance, feeding and watering. Some days it gets to me, and I give fleeting credence to the naysayers in my head, the voices screaming quit and rest.

But I can’t quit and rest, you see. Because I have no choice. Because I am so close to things happening and opportunities presenting themselves and my goal of self-sufficiency through the written word actually maybe, just maybe, becoming my reality.

I have no choice but to continue. So it starts with one word…one word interrupting the purity of the blank page…like a cheap run turning a 10-0 blowout into a 10-1 ballgame…one word leading to two…one thought connecting to another…

Beautiful word porn Brian! Sometiems words just seem uncontainable, I can’t shut them off. They literally keep me up at night. It is crazy. Moments like you described are what happens when I try to write more than just a blog post. They mock the idea of me writing a book. They just toy with me. It is a love/hate kind of thing.

I think you describe how we all feel at one time or another; so, if you didn’t connect with a thought, you at least connected with me. I have no doubt success will come your way and you will have “self-sufficiency through the written word.” A phrase pops into my head from when I was a kid: just keep on truckin’.

I’m married to a writer. I know the torment. He scribbles on corners of napkins in what looks like micro-fiche. When it happens, there’s no stopping it. Be open and align your energy with your creative flow. (That sounded super groovy, didn’t it?) It does ebb and flow. Creative juices seem to have their own rhythm.
Anyway, you seem to have an endless well of creative thoughts and words ‘a plenty’ in your tool belt. You make it seem effortless.

Love this and so true. I wrote a silly poem that had a similar idea though you expressed the experience much better. The ideas hiding behind a wall got me. You know they are there, they tease and mock. Best to ignore them like a cat and find that they come running when you do.